Tag: local

With the Beatles reference out of the way, the ninth installment of this wrestling extravaganza was once again a head scratcher. Held in Vegas for the first time, it was all Caesar and Cleopatra, camels, togas and everything in between. The event of the night was Bret Hart, reigning WWF champion, going up against the 505 pound Japan phenom, Yokozuna. Fun fact is that Yokozuna was from Hawaii the whole time, so… fuck me right?

Keeping with the sweetest of water theme is their flagship Pale Ale, 420. I have phases between 420 and the IPA and I just might be back on the Pale bandwagon.

I also had phases between smooth and crunchy peanut butter but that’s beside the point. I can go either way on pale ales but in this case, it’s right up there with the IPA. Weighing in at 5.7 ABV, it has a great hop kick, but with a smoother citrus finish. A green can with a blue top opener thingy, how can you go wrong.

Never expecting a wrestling lesson from a 500+ pounder, so moves were minimal and agility was basically non existent. I’ll give Bret Hart all the credit in the world for carrying (or not carrying) the big monster through this matchup. A missed corner splash lead to a second rope bulldog by the challenger but only a 1 count with an extreme kick out. Using all the brains he can, Hart exposes a turnbuckle, all the while throwing Yokozuna into it. The big man is down and the sharpshooter submission move is in!! Mr. Fuji has a substance in his hand…

It’s salt in the eyes!! Salt in the eyes!!!

Yokuna gets the 1…2…3 and the NEEEEW WWF CHAMPION…YOKOZUNA!!!

In the most shocking (meaning the most unshocking) moment ever, Hulk Hogan comes to the aide of the cheated ex-champion to avenge his loss. Fuji then sets a challenge to the Hulkster to fight Yoko with the title on the line. Spoiler Alert: Hogan gets in and foils the plans of the bad guys and heroingly (totally a word) wins the WWF Championship for the fifth time. The silver lining in this is that I will not utter the name Hogan till WrestleMania 18.

April was once again upon us and WWF, much like Stella, got their groove back. With a crowd of 62,167 at the Hoosier Dome in Indiana, they righted the wrongs of yesteryear with not one, but…

TWO MAIN EVENTS!!!

The WWF Championship was on the line as Ric Flair (I know you just woo’ed in your head) was pitted against the Macho Man. The build for this match was sublime as Flair stated, and had doctored photo proof, of himself and Savage’s wife Elizabeth in compromised positions with a horse. No bullshit, I said a fucking horse.

Told ya.

Segueing from a horse to a fish, we go to one of my favorite southern breweries in Sweetwater out of Athens, GA. The flagship IPA is delicious and no, it’s not juicy. It’s just a great hop forward smooth drinking IPA that goes down fabulously. The 6.3% ABV is a little low for more modern IPA’s but if you have 8 at 6% or 6 at 8% then it all equals out right? Thought so.

Savage, who was retired the year before, was back because in wrestling not much can be taken seriously or literally. Macho came out in all gold, which I’m pretty sure always means that you win the championship. It’s taken me a while to come to this conclusion, but I think I’m on to something. As I’m blabbering on, Savage starts this fight on the outside and is a whirlwind of fisticuffs. As many title matches go, there are ebs and flows of momentum and now Flair is battering the back of Macho, literally from pillar to post. Mr.Perfect is running interference on the outside which just leads to more suplexes and of course plenty of chops from Flair. Savage catches the Nature Boy snoozing on the top rope and BAM, Flair is down & he is in a world of hurt, as seen below…

In just about every Flair match he dawns the crimson mask and this one is no different. Flair is down and seemingly out as Savage goes up for his patented elbow and he… HITS IT!! 1…2…NO!! Perfect makes the save and in a weasel move throws in brass knuckles and wallops the Macho one with them. The three count will not be had here and to try to preserve justice, as well as the voice of reason, is Miss Elizabeth. Some pelvic thrusts and air kisses from Ric to Liz can only boil the blood of his opponent. The writing was on the wall but just when you thought it was safe to air pelvic thrust, Savage rolls up (with a fistful of tights) and get the 1..2..3… AAND NEW WWF CHAMPION, MACHO MAN RANDY SAVAGE!!! This was one of my favorite bouts so far and remains to be to this day.

Well, I’ve nerded out long enough and still have some tasty Sweetwater IPA left, so I’ll give you the abridged version of the other main event that was touted as the potential last match of the Hulkster. Another snoozer of a match against Sid Justice was the true main event that went last on the card, which still bugs me. Hulk basically gets beat down, you think he’s out, but he no sells to kingdom come all while the mouthpiece of Sid causes a disqualification. The real rub of the post match beat down of Hogan, with a little help from Papa Shango, was the return of…THE ULTIMATE WARRIOR!!! HES BACK!! The newly mulleted Warrior cleaned house which lead to a pose off in the middle of the ring with all the adoring fans taking it all in.

So nice, I have to… watch another WrestleMania?? Pretty sure that’s how it goes. Here we go…

WrestleMania Très held the all time indoor attendance record for a crowd of 93,000+. This number was apparently bullshit but for the sake of wrestling being awesome, I’ll keep it. Andre the Giant had enough of the Hulk Hogan show and wanted his title, which became a match for the ages, that some say was the equivalent of a man riding a shark that is towing three lovely ladies on water skis. If that isn’t a segue then I don’t know what is, which leads me to my southern IPA of choice, River Dog IPA.

(You’ll get the weird reference later, I promise, but in the mean time)

Vote for Me!

With the random Doug reference aside now, let’s get to the beer shall we. I’ve oogled over this brewery in previous posts like River Dog is also Man’s Best Friend, and this one is no different. This IPA is fucking stellar with its citrus hop goodness and just the perfect amount of malt, it’s like a Hogan big boot to your mouth, and I can promise you that’s a good thing. The 6.5 ABV makes it quite crushable and when it’s 80 degrees starting in February, that’s music to my ears, or it’s a cooling breeze on a hot day, or it’s the sound of jingling coins, or whatever the fuck suits your fancy. ﻿

They apparently make them big in the French Alps, as Andre the Giant is here and has never even been body slammed. How can Hulk win???!!

Hulk goes for a slam???!!! And his back gives out and the match is almost over just like that.

Head butt from Andre. Head butt from Andre. Head butt from Andre, followed by a butt womp type maneuver in the corner. Hogan follows it up with clotheslines and Andre won’t go down!! The IPA is flowing and Hogans energy seems to be slowing. The bear hug is on and what??? Hogan punches, Hogan punches, the Silverdome is going wild but Hogan succumbs to the power of the giant once more. Hogan looks done and…

What the fuck?!?! What the fuck?!?! Andre is staggering and Hulk…

…

body slams the five hundred pounder!! Leg drop followed by the 1…2…3!!!

The baby face once again foils the heel and history has been made. Some celebratory IPA’s are in order and four seems like a good number, and also a foreshadowing to another WrestleMania spectacle.

Quite the day here at Beer-enity Now, I have the pleasure of writing the first installment of #jacketjanuary and I got my Brewster Club Box!! Brewster Club is a new craft beer take on the Beer of the Month club. Every month you get 10-12 different craft brews from around the country to enjoy from all different breweries. Alas, there was a hiccup in the shipping department and I only got one of my boxes. (I ordered 2 so I had one for me and a late Christmas gift for my gal that’s better than your gal.) The customer service was amazing, as they apologized profusely about the delay, which of course wasn’t their fault. I now have both in my possession and all is well in the world.

The Woven Eyez C-16 is where I will start my jacket journey. What is the Woven Eyez C-16 you ask?? Well St Louis’ own Peat Wollaeger aka Eyez, designed this beauty among many others. His signature eyes really bring out the design and makes it quite eye catching, am I right?! What I am currently enjoying or at least trying to enjoy, is Upside Down Blonde by Flat 12 Bierwerks. I figured just by the spelling alone, this would be a home run, but unfortunately was more like a bases loaded strikeout. Taste was no where to be found but luckily for me, it looked pretty fucking cool as I was drinking it…

Right from the pages of an app made comic from someone who really isnt into comics, is the first action packed edition of #dipadecember.

The two combatants are just a hop (get it??) skip and a jump away from a battle for the ages. Needless to say, I had to intervene in the proceedings, and drink them both before a complete cataclysmic event…

(side thought: Cataclysmic might just be the coolest word in the English language.)

Before I knew it, the hops were flying and there was malt and shrapnel everywhere. Three Taverns “Hoplicity” came out with gusto and its smooth as shit malt flavor, and stumbled back “Slippery Slope”. A strong citrus hop character from Slope brought ‘Plicity to its knees…

I know I’ve gone on ad nauseam about River Dog but seriously, this beer is fucking delicious. They have Fresh Beer Friday in which they introduce a new beer exclusively in their taproom. Luckily for me, they are right down the road for me so I can take advantage of this with my weird schedule.

Last week was Bedroom Eyes which was a pale wheat ale with lemon zest, ginger and brewed with peaches. Much to my chagrin they tapped the Port Royal Sound sour in a small quantity so I said “what the hell,I’ll take one”. I always say everything happens for a reason.

Which brings me to this week and the River Dog Grisette (4.5/5). A perfect and crushable low ABV Belgian brew that screams I want to drink beer in the morning (no judgement zone). Pictured above with its golden yellow color, this bad boy goes down in Usain Bolt fashion with a subtle spice note and citrus tidings.